Being
by Unformal Sorrelle
Summary: *Spoilers for Captain America: The Winter Soldier! So beware!* The Winter Soldier is filled with confusion as he briefly regains an identity. He doesn't understand how that man could know him, and how he could know that man. He's falling apart and yet building himself into being. Memories, thoughts, emotions... Is this who Bucky is? A Oneshot.


Being  
_A Oneshot  
_Disclaiming of only owning what I own and nothing else.

* * *

The Winter Soldier was used to existing. Just... Existing.

He was given a command and he followed it. No independent thought required. He didn't know why but that was another thing he didn't think about. Thinking was painful.

He knew about memory. He remembered his commands quite clearly.

Memory was the command; The steps he used to achieve the mission.

It rarely occurred to him that his memory went back further than that. Sometimes, random things would draw a hazy past to him. He would get the feeling that he had killed like that once before, that a color on a woman's shirt was the same as a vase holding flowers on a familiar windowsill, that a small blond boy was similar to a figure that never quite revealed himself no matter the digging in the vague rememberings. Most of the times he let these blurry scenes disappear.

He let himself exist as action. Doing. Moving.

It's what They wanted, so it's what he threw himself into.

He didn't remember when he took a step back and thought. Those instances were buried.

Without thought and without clear excess to his past, the Winter Soldier didn't understand emotions either. Emotions would come to him and he'd be unable to even name them. He would try to ignore the ache in his chest, the heat to his veins, and the prickling of his eyes.

He was unable to deal with them. Unlike thoughts, which can be distracted, and memories, which can be forgotten, emotions didn't give in so easily. Anything could cause a feeling, and feeling anything was humanity.

He didn't think he was human. He didn't understand quite what humans even were. Not really. He understood that it broadly encompassed all speaking two legged beings who wore clothes, but that was merely a definition. To him, all humans were not put together, but divided. There were commanders and scientists, targets, and the background beings which were either obstacles or furniture.

Now there was Steve. Steve Rogers. Captain America. Target.

_I know him._

Who was this man? Why did he recognize him? Why did he call him 'Bucky'?

The Winter Soldier's entire identity was absence, so gaining one now was... Disconcerting to say the least. Shattering was more accurate, as was breaking, and destroying.

It wasn't as if the Winter Soldier's life was based on a lie. He didn't even have that. The sheer lack was his foundation.

He had never imagined _Being_. He never wondered if he had a past. He never gave himself a name. No thoughts, no problem.

Who was Bucky?

It had seemed like he was Bucky.

Bucky.

Bucky and Steve.

Memories.

Feelings.

Emotions.

_I knew him._

He knew he knew Steve. That was the only thing that was real.

Like a child reaching, he grasped onto the first sliver of identity he could remember and held on tight.

It _hurt_. It confused him. It changed him.

He started thinking- no thoughts, no problems- and couldn't get anything so clear as an image. He got auras of things, colors, and sounds. There were emotions- humanity- and now there were tears.

Had he _Been_?

Was he a _Being_?

Could he _Be_ again?

_I knew him._

Could he rebuild himself on this? Could he be rebuilt.

_I knew him_- a small blond boy was similar to a figure that never quite revealed himself no matter the digging in the vague rememberings.

_I KNEW HIM._

Lashing out he _almost_ ran. He scared the scientists, ready to break free.

But he couldn't.

It wasn't even the guns which stopped him.

It wasn't enough. In the end, the faded remnants were nothing but a revenant.

A ghost.

Bucky didn't have enough substance to fight for his freedom. Maybe he could make Them understand!? Maybe They would explain?  
He tried to explain his dilemma with words that were hard to form. He created the sentences, crafted them with as much skill as he could manage with his newly emerging Being.

He was not eloquent- instead he was heartfelt. Heartfelt- like he had a heart; feelings; _humanity_.

Wasn't he human?

He was a speaking two legged being who wore clothes.

The Commander spoke but it wasn't the words he wanted.

Wanted?! _He_ wanted.

But it wasn't going to last.

He tried to accept is as the best. Commanders knew what was best.

_Being_ hurt. Knowing was confusing. He, the unstoppable Winter Soldier, had changed.

Steve had just brought problems.

He submitted without an argument, having no tools left at his disposal.

Back to the Winter Soldier.

Back to the void.

Back to never_ just_ existing.

But...

_I knew him._

* * *

**A/N**: I saw The Winter Soldier yesterday and to me, the character of Bucky just seemed so _tragic_. The feels where overwhelming to say the very least. It's the scene where he's wiped that really gets me- he just seems like a confused little kid. I wrote this on my phone as kind of a doodle piece, and I know it's nothing special. It was just a plot bunny that actually put me to work instead of just hopping away after the first few hundred words.

Reviews are nice. If you wish to discuss the movie, I'd be extremely happy too as well. None of my friends have really seen it yet so I still have some "AHSHUHNuhnijwhiuerhoufiuwe3fuohuWHUWHPUFHEu!"s to get out. It's just BUCKY! Ahhhh.


End file.
